Castlevania Tales: Blood Under the Moon
by victor-cardigan
Summary: More than a decade after Reinhardt fought Dracula, he is living in London. Drawn to a series of murders he may find that his past his catching up with him.
1. Default Chapter

[Author's note: The town of Walthemstuw does not, to any of my knowledge exist in the real life. However, the town of Walthamstow does exist in England. There is no connection between the two. No offense is intended in the use of a name similar to that town.]  
  
  
  
The symphony was passable. It could be listened to. Joseph Schwartz considered telling his wife that it was no good. As Schwartz walked out of the auditorium he could still hear the final notes of a few lingering players. The true fault of the orchestra was the young dark haired man playing the flute. With each pause you could see the man struggling to not sneeze. It was very distracting. Several times Schwartz looked around to see that many people in the audience were more preoccupied with seeing if the man would sneeze or if he could hold it. As Schwartz turned a corner, he finally decided that he would tell his wife to come with him. Life at home was so dull. Schwartz only seemed to really enjoy his work. In recent years he was finding more comfort in his numbers and spreadsheets at the bank than in the arms of his wife. They had already had several discussions where she has pointed out that he seemed more interested in numbers than her. Schwartz was sighing when the sudden awareness that his footsteps were the only audible sound broke his thoughts. He stopped for a moment and looked around. He had strayed not only in his thoughts but in his direction. He was walking in a direction opposite to where his home was. His heart started to beat tremendously as a sudden feeling of dread overcame him. He would not feel relief until he saw that a constable was pacing back and forth at a distant streetlight. True, it was some distance away but he felt better knowing that he was not a lonely soul on this street. Schwartz was once again startled as he passed an alley entrance and saw a lone figure walking down it. Schwartz became transfixed by this odd looking figure. He did not realize he was staring until he saw that the man suddenly fell to the ground. Immediately the banker yelled in the direction where he had seen the constable.  
  
"Help! Constable, help! I mean rapidly man!" Schwartz saw that the policeman moved but slowly. He was apparently too far away to hear his urgency. For a moment Schwartz hesitated walking into the alley, but seeing that the police was taking his time, he approached the fallen man. Schwartz kneeled by him and tried to turn him over. His body weighed heavily and touching his arms, the banker could see that he was a fit fellow.  
  
"Get away.the other is coming." the man struggled as he spoke.  
  
"Now, now, did you have to large a drink my dear fellow?" Schwartz paused as he heard a sound. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before. It was a breathing sound. It was not human. He backed away from the figure and saw something that was equally inhuman. ________________________  
  
The streets of London always bustled with activity in the morning. London for many years had been one of the most active cities in the world. Inspector Jonathan Gajette was of a semi short stature. He sported a thin mustache and wore the same bowler hat and tie every day. His cane had as its top the silver image of a single cat's head with the singular feature of having one ear. Normally Gajette used the cane to wade through the enormous crowds but today was different. There were many people, that was not in question, but there were less today than the day before and the day before that. Nights in London were even becoming calmer than they have for years. The night was turning dead calm except on certain days.  
  
Gajette arrived at his destination. It was a tall brick building which looked like four families could live inside, but this one only had one. Gajette knocked on the door with the hilt off his cane. Gajette tapped his cane while he waited for the door to be opened. Inside he could hear loud voices and the sound of much commotion. He knocked once more when the door opened suddenly. It was a young lady who opened the door. She had short hair cut neck length. Gajette estimated that she was exactly one inch taller than he was. Her eyes stared into his and he felt as though she was reading his mind. She broke away her stare and looked at the door. She inspected it closely and then lifted his right arm where he was holding his cane. She looked at the hilt and nodded her head. She then smiled and asked him, "can I help you with something."  
  
Gajette forced a minute smile. Her accent had something foreign in it. It was vaguely Spanish and yet east European. "I would like to speak to a Reinhardt Schneider."  
  
The young lady swung the door wide open and gestured him in. "Welcome to the asylum," she commented softly. Inside the house was spacious and filled with what looked like one of the finest collections of books and paintings he had seen in a home. The whole house looked like a museum of items, books, and art from all over the word. Although the decorating scheme was international, there was still something uncompromisingly British about the house. Gajette looked around and saw that the girl was correct. The house was like an insane asylum. A blonde woman was yelling orders at servants. The servants were moving from room to room carrying various boxes and bags. All the while, a small child of roughly five years of age was running through all of the house's rooms being followed by a large man. After some of the commotion died down Gajette saw the blonde fall onto the sofa in the living room. Although she seemed to be resting, Gajette was not and he had a purpose here.  
  
"Madam, I seek Reinhardt Schneider."  
  
"I am his wife," she stood and held out her hand. "You are?"  
  
"Inspector Jonathan Gajette of the municipal police. I would like to speak to your husband as soon as possible on a matter of great importance."  
  
"If you would wait in the study I will tell him you are here." The woman gestured to where he could wait. Gajette entered the study. It was a circular room with two floors entirely filled with books. A window with a view to the back showed Gajette that the house included a greenhouse in the back. As Gajette perused the library of books he realized that a large portion of them were devoted to botany. After several minutes Gajette heard the door open. He turned and saw a tall hale and hearty man walking towards him with his hand outstretched. Gajette took the man's hand and shook it. The man was five to six inches taller than he was.  
  
"Reinhardt Schneider." He spoke with a strong eastern European accent. Reinhardt gestured for him to have a seat. Gajette did so and looked at Reinhardt for several moments. Reinhardt sat opposite him waiting for Gajette to present himself and explain what he wanted. Gajette wanted Reinhardt to ask him.  
  
"Coffee?"  
  
Gajette raised an eyebrow, "no tea?"  
  
"I prefer coffee these days." Reinhardt turned his head and yelled quite loud, "Carrie! Coffee!" The two men returned to the silence. Gajette finally broke and introduced himself.  
  
"I am Inspector Jonathan Gajette of the London Municipal Police, Mr. Schneider. I come only to you upon the insistence of heads far above me. In certain circles you are known for your unique skills. Or so I am told."  
  
Reinhardt turned away from Gajette and looked out the window where he could see Rosa tending to her garden house. "I may have a variety of skills, Inspector. I fancy myself as a simple but skilled carpenter."  
  
"The skills I am here to enlist are those dealing with things out of the ordinary."  
  
"Out of the ordinary?"  
  
"Mr. Schneider, you have just recently returned to London?"  
  
"Yes. Early this morning."  
  
"Then perhaps I should be the first to tell you. For the past several weeks, London has been victim to what can only be described as a series of murders."  
  
"A series?"  
  
"Murder in a large city is not out of the ordinary. What does bring special attention is when the murders are not random and committed by the same perpetrator."  
  
"Such a thing has happened?" "Yes. Three murders. We have done our best to keep the details as closely guarded as possible. The city has lost quite a large sum of money in order to bribe witnesses who found the bodies quiet. If the full details were ever released there would be panic in the streets."  
  
"Three murders. What connects them?"  
  
"This is not the first case where murders have been connected by motive or by a single person. What is extraordinary about this case is the way in which the victims have been killed."  
  
Reinhardt did not ask, he only waited for Gajette to tell him.  
  
"The bodies were literally torn to shreds. The bodies are unidentifiable."  
  
"Like an animal?"  
  
"That is the current theory. Of course what kind of animal is currently under dispute. The fact that no such animal could possibly remain so well hidden and not have been seen already makes this a truly puzzling case. Because it seems so unlikely that such a powerful animal could stalk the streets of London freely, my superiors have developed alternate explanations."  
  
"Which are?"  
  
"Succinctly? A God forsaken monster from hell is doing this." Gajette straightened in his seat as though to place more emphasis on his words. "I personally do not believe in all of this rubbish they say. I believe it is a police matter and one that we can handle. Furthermore you will forgive me if I don't believe half the stories I hear of you. Yes I know all about you and your supposed battles against monsters, vampires, and magical beings. Magic! Rubbish!"  
  
At that moment Carrie entered the room holding a tray with two cups of coffee, a large cup of milk, and lumps of sugar. "Coffee?"  
  
"Thank you Carrie. Please serve the good inspector first." Reinhardt started to rub his hand against his forehead contemplating the inspector's words. Carrie meanwhile walked over to the inspector and stood in front of him. Both of Carrie's hands were holding the tray so the inspector assumed he had to serve himself. He sat up ready to do so when suddenly the glass of coffee rose up of its own accord. Gajette rammed himself into the back of his seat. Reinhardt looked up with disappointed eyes.  
  
"Milk?"  
  
Gajette nodded in a fast manner.  
  
"Say when," Carrie smiled as she watched the milk pitcher also rise up and hover above the already hovering cup of coffee. The pitcher then tilted ever so slightly and poured. Almost instantly Gajette said, "when!" The sound he made was more like a squeal.  
  
"Sugar?"  
  
"No!" Gajette had almost yelled. A moment passed where he shot a glance at Reinhardt. He composed himself and took the floating cup of coffee. "No." He said calmly. "Thank you."  
  
Carrie began to walk out of the study when Reinhardt shot a glance at her as she left. Carrie responded by lifting her shoulders innocently. After she had gone, Reinhardt looked at Gajette. The coffee was shaking in his hand. After another moment he seemed to get a hold of himself and return to his natural and rather irritating mood.  
  
"Will you help us?"  
  
Reinhardt breathed heavily. "I have just returned from a long vacation overseas. I suppose." Reinhardt stood up and walked to the window. Rosa was still tending her garden. This time she saw him and she waved. Reinhardt also saw that his son was running towards her. He also turned and waved. Reinhardt gave a slight wave back. Reinhardt turned to find Gajette already standing, the coffee cup on the reading table.  
  
"Strictly to advise you. I will help you investigate this odd chain of murder. With any luck it is as you say, something that the municipal police can handle."  
  
"Very well. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning come by the Yard and I will show you the victims. Or should I say what is left. Take this day to settle yourself back into London."  
  
"Until tomorrow inspector."  
  
Gajette left the room and Reinhardt became entranced by the silence that permeated throughout the house. Eventually Reinhardt exited the library and walked outside to join Rosa. The green house was actually all glass held together by stands and girders all made from wood. Reinhardt built this for Rosa. He stood in the frame of the back entrance watching as Rosa carried their son, Michael. As she held him she pointed out certain plants and told him what they were. Others she asked him to identify. Michael was a well- balanced blend of both Reinhardt and Rosa. He had her intelligence and capacity to remember names and details. At the same time he was very active and athletic. His hair was blonde and straight like her mother. He was so intelligent Reinhardt thought. The boy was only five years old.  
  
Rosa eventually exited the shack carrying Michael. When she approached Reinhardt she put Michael down and tickled him. Michael went running into the house under the assumption that his mother would follow him. She seemed ready to do so until she glimpsed at Reinhardt's expression.  
  
"That Gajette fellow. He wanted you for a job?"  
  
Reinhardt nodded. "He is from the Municipal Police." Reinhardt came around Rosa and took her hand as they both walked into the house. "There have been three murders, Rosa."  
  
"What does it have to do with you?"  
  
"They are strange," he said. Reinhardt's accent gave the word strange a sound equal to its meaning. "I told them that I would look into it but that probably it is something outside of my expertise and not as extraordinary as they might suspect."  
  
"Reinhardt." Rosa looked deep into his eyes. "That is exactly what you say every other time someone calls for your help, look at just we went through only a few months ago. Look at what an old trip to visit my old family friend Adam Simenson turned into."  
  
Reinhardt exhaled his agitation. Rosa had every reason and he had next to nothing. The woman is always right he learned. Nevertheless, tomorrow he would go to Scotland yard and see the bodies of the victims, or as Gajette had so eloquently said, what was left. ________________________  
  
Reinhardt stood in the midst of chaos. Dozens upon dozens of people stood howling at the police man stationed at the front desk of Scotland Yard. The navy blue uniformed officer yelled with a loud booming voice to try and overcome the bellowing of the crowd. Reinhardt stood for about five minutes waiting to see if he would be attended. Eventually he concluded that the direct approach might be best. The front desk sat on a raised platform with a door to the left and a swinging door that was waist height to the right. Reinhardt subtly made his way through the crowd and went through the swinging door. Reinhardt was stopped after taking eight steps from the swinging door.  
  
"Oy!" shouted an officer. "And just where do you think you are off to."  
  
Reinhardt faced the officer. "Inspector Gajette is expecting me. My name is Reinhardt Schneider."  
  
The officer evidently did not like Reinhardt's blunt move to pass through the front desk unannounced, did not fancy his obviously foreign accent, and definitely did not like his name. "We'll see about that. Come on." The officer led him through the maze of desks belonging to various officers, constables, and finally to the desk of Jonathan Gajette. Gajette looked up at Reinhardt with the same irritated gaze he had given him yesterday morning at his home. By the way Gajette inspected him, Reinhardt could swear that he was checking to see if he had grown taller since yesterday.  
  
"I wear tall boots," Reinhardt offered.  
  
Gajette looked down to see Reinhardt wearing a pair of rather worn leather boots with slightly elevated heels giving Reinhardt a quarter inch more height than yesterday. The boots completely clashed with Reinhardt's gentlemanly pure black slacks, white button shirt, and navy blue vest. "You don't wear a coat or jacket?" Gajette inquired.  
  
"Only on occasions of great importance, never on business. This is my informal wear."  
  
Gajette gestured for him to follow him through the maze of desks and to a door leading to a descending stairwell. "Perhaps I should have warned you."  
  
"Warned me?"  
  
"Not to wear white. Where we go, you are guaranteed to get stained."  
  
Gajette and Reinhardt descended the steps to beneath the Scotland Yard where there was a small facility serving as a mortuary. Whether it was a permanent arrangement or something set up just for these bodies Reinhardt could not deduce. A large stout man dressed in what used to be a surgeon's white gown awaited them seated eating some kind of sandwich.  
  
"Had to be when I sat down to eat!" said the stout man rather loudly. The man dropped his sandwich and stood before a row of three tables. The floor directly above them seemed to be the front desk area so the stomping of feet could be heard as well as felt. Thus, the overhead hanging lights were always swinging back and forth. Reinhardt's eyes adjusted to the darkness but everything he saw was through half glimpses of light.  
  
Gajette had a folder underneath his arm, which he now pulled out. "A summary of the details are: -Three persons dead -All three are members of the upper class -Bodies of all three were found at different and far away locations throughout London -The professions of the three men were, in order of the murders, a banker, a real estate man, and a bookstore owner."  
  
The stout man lifted the first of three sheets covering the tables. What was underneath was far from being identifiable as human. No hands or feet were foreseeable. Arms and legs were indiscernible from the other. In fact nothing was attached to anything. What lay on the table was merely a pile human limbs all mutilated in one way or another. The first question coming to Reinhardt's head was where were the missing pieces. Presumably eaten he thought. The stout man or coroner as Reinhardt surmised, removed the next sheet. What was beneath the second was more or less the same as the first. Whether there was more or less Reinhardt did not even try to contemplate.  
  
Gajette continued "The only connections we have been able to link to all three are that all three were murdered in dark alleys away from prying eyes. What would make such high stature men walk into a dark corner I do not know. Interestingly, all three were member to the same gentlemen's club. The Campbell Club. That one with the two large C's engraved on the doors."  
  
"I know it."  
  
"As you can see. There is not much left of them. Therefore not much to go on."  
  
"Tell him about the moon." Grunted the coroner. Gajette seemed bothered by his speaking.  
  
"Moon?"  
  
"One of my 'above heads' is a superstitious fellow. I've marked him as one of those queer handshaking masons. Anyway, his little contribution to this case, apart from recommending you, was a little tidbit of information. The night of all the murders happened on the same night as a full moon."  
  
"A full moon?"  
  
"Yes." Gajette looked at him for a moment. "You are not a mason are you?"  
  
"No. Good Christians are not supposed to be involved in such societies."  
  
"And you would be a good Christian?"  
  
Reinhardt lifted the third sheet for himself. The remains were the same. Already Reinhardt was formulating his own theories. "I try to be. That is the point."  
  
Gajette grunted.  
  
"How were the bodies.identified."  
  
Gajette closed his folder and turned to walk closer to the stairs. "At each scene of the crime we found the victim's belongings scattered. Our dear coroner seems to think that whoever did this literally dug into the bodies like a dog digs into the ground. The murderer would rip the clothes off scattering them and whatever the victim was carrying. Examining the belonging yielded the identities of all of them. I have denied the families permission to see the bodies until the investigation is over. Since all of them were reported missing they all take our word that their loved ones are truly deceased."  
  
The coroner approached Reinhardt holding a small thin glass test tube. "I also found this. Several on each body." Reinhardt took the test tube in his hand and looked to the inside. A single long hair was contained in the tube. Reinhardt's theories solidified themselves even more. Reinhardt waved the tube before the coroner, "May I take this?" Reinhardt turned to face Gajette. "For my own personal investigation."  
  
"Of course, Mr. Schneider. We are of course anxious for any help you may give us." Gajette then left the two men alone, in total darkness except for the swinging lights that did not stop swinging. ________________________  
  
The rest of Reinhardt's morning was first spent at the telegraph station where he sent a message for Henry to try his best to take an earlier train to arrive in London. He then returned home and began to examine several reports on the murders that Gajette allowed him to take with him. It took a half-hour for Reinhardt to realize that he recognized the bookstore of the third man that was murdered. A little less than twenty minutes later Reinhardt stood outside "Old and Golden Books." The store sat in the middle of same street stores that littered the small road leading to Scotland Yard. It was made entirely of red bricks that had turned brown with grime and time. The wooden sign barely hung on its hinges. Reinhardt walked up to the glass front door and peered in. It was lit on the inside but he could not see anyone. Finally a head popped up from below Reinhardt's view and met him eye to eye.  
  
"Can I help you?" The young man said in a voice muffled from behind the glass door.  
  
"My name is Reinhardt Schneider. I was asked by the Municipal Police to help with the investigation of Sean Golden's death."  
  
There was a pause. Then Reinhardt saw the man unlock the door and swing it wide open for him to enter. Reinhardt saw him lock it behind him after he entered. Looking at the young man, he guessed he was about twenty something years old. Probably he was the same age as Carrie.  
  
The young man had bags under his eyes as though he had not slept for many days. His hair was black as ink and his face very pale. He looked as though he had put powder on his face. The young man looked around and placed some books he had under his arm on a nearby table. Finally he extended his hand. "Matthew Golden. I am the son of Sean Golden." Reinhardt took his hand and realized when letting go that the young fellow had ink on his hands. Matthew slapped his forehead and apologized. He quickly ran somewhere behind Reinhardt to look for a napkin. While he did so Reinhardt look around the store. The bookstore looked like a normal library and was arranged as such. Eventually Reinhardt drifted in one of the more hidden aisles noticed that a set of bookcases all the way in the back were behind a glass door under lock and key. Dust did not permit Reinhardt to read the spines of the books. To Matthew's surprise, Reinhardt turned around the instant he was coming up behind him to give him his napkin. Reinhardt took it in his hand and tried to use it but looked at the poor young man regrettably.  
  
"All dry already. Thank you anyway."  
  
Matthew smiled and stood leaning on one of the bookcase almost uselessly. Reinhardt peered into his eyes and wondered whether he had the same look when first his father died. "Matthew, what about these books?"  
  
"My father's private collection. It just so happens I know who you are. My father has told me all about you, or at least your ancestors."  
  
"My ancestors?"  
  
"Yes." Matthew looked at Reinhardt confusedly. "You are Reinhardt Schneider? You are Belmont, are you not?"  
  
"How did your father know about us?"  
  
"My father had a taste for all kinds of history, including mystic history. The Belmont family of vampire hunters is part of that mystic history. You are not likely to find that name in any normal history book."  
  
"I see. So your father knew of such things and perhaps even more supernatural than my family lineage?"  
  
"Oh yes. The books under lock and key here are only for certain customers and always to be delivered personally by him."  
  
"Matthew, why do you think your father was murdered?"  
  
"I don't know why. The other two men had nothing to do with father; they were a banker and a man who sold land and property. My father did not trust banks and did not own anything except what you see here. Yes, they did go to the same gentlemen's club but they were rarely sociable. My father preferred the intellectuals of the club rather than the socialites."  
  
"Pardon me for asking, but how did your father become a part of the club?"  
  
"He was once the lead historian at one of England's premier libraries. Then my father became somewhat obsessed with all things arcane." Reinhardt pulled the test tube with the hair from his vest pocket. "Can you identify this hair?"  
  
"I am afraid that my father was the expert, not I."  
  
Reinhardt returned the tube to his vest and nodded. He thanked Matthew and made his way toward the exit. Matthew followed and hesitated for a moment to open the door. "I want to help."  
  
"That's out of the question, Matthew." He placed a hand on his shoulder. "This matter is for me and the police. Leave it to us." Reinhardt stepped out and called a coach to take him home. From inside the store Matthew watched him slowly disappear into the distance.  
  
________________________  
  
Just as Inspector Gajette noted during the waking hours of the day, that London felt somewhat unpopulated, Reinhardt felt the same during the dark night. After taking a stagecoach home from Golden's bookstore, Reinhardt picked up an issue of the day's Tattler. It was a gossip paper filled with mostly rubbish that will entertain one for less than a shilling. One true piece of information it gave was for those interested in astrology. It always announced the night of a full moon. Tonight was such a night. If the mysterious killer that has been prowling London keeps to his pattern, then tonight should be a night of action. Reinhardt dressed up for this particular night. He was dressed not in his normal jacket with chest armor but in a suit that Rosa described as to die for. She complained why he did not wear such things when they were on "personal missions." Reinhardt blushed and smiled at the thought of it. At around ten to eleven at night, Reinhardt had circled the same block for about four hours. A gentleman that he had tipped rather well had kept his corner meat shop open for all this time. Reinhardt's explicit instructions were to keep only the freshest meat hanging outside and one slightly cooked so that the odor would travel far and wide through the streets. Finally Reinhardt asked the man if he could buy the meat for a slightly higher price than normal and if he could take the slightly cooked one as well. The man gave him both free saying that staying open this late had brought him several customers whose payments more than covered the total of the two meats Reinhardt needed. Reinhardt threw the large pieces of meat over his shoulder and began to pace around the block again. There were two alley entrances, one on either side of the street. At each turn, Reinhardt looked down the alleys. Reinhardt looked up every so often. At one turn he saw the glint of glass being shone on by the moon. Henry De Rais had arrived in the afternoon. Reinhardt had briefed him on the case and told him about his suspicions. Henry also believed that he recognized the hair and mentioned something about arranging some books being brought to him. The books would ironically be brought by Matthew Golden tomorrow morning. Henry apparently knew of the Golden bookstore. Reinhardt stopped right in front of the entrance to one of the alleys when he swore he saw a shadow in the distance. Reinhardt looked up towards the rooftops, there was no sign of Henry. Reinhardt began to walk into the darkened alleyway. Nothing was understating what Reinhardt could see. About halfway down the alley were boxes stacked on top of one another. Reinhardt was careful when passing the boxes, making sure that no one or no thing was waiting for him on the other side. Reinhardt paused and all he could hear for a moment was the sound of his own breathing. Reinhardt did not feel the touch of his attacker at first, he just suddenly felt himself being thrust to the ground. Reinhardt rolled onto his back and then felt as the shadowy form began to try and dig into him. In a frantic split second Reinhardt's memory flashed the image of the carcasses of the previous victims. Reinhardt wondered if what was happening to him had happened to all the now dead victims. He could see the silhouette of his enemy but could not feel anything of what was happening to him. Reinhardt looked to the roof and saw the shadowy figure of Henry moving into action. He saw that Henry took a great leap from the top of the roof and landed right on the boxes. His young counterpart barely flinched and did not take time to recover from the jump he immediately jumped from the boxes and stood over Reinhardt and the shadow figure. He saw that Henry pulled one of his light sticks, a twelve-inch rod with a slightly almost explosive compound at one end of it, and rubbed it against the wall of the alley like a matchstick. Reinhardt and his attacker were now illuminated. To Reinhardt's surprise and Henry's relief, a large pure black dog now stood upon Reinhardt's chest nicking away at the meat which Reinhardt had thrown in front of himself without realizing. Reinhardt slowly got up from the ground leaving the meat for the dog.  
  
"Looks like you made a friend." Henry smiled. Reinhardt nodded. "Looks like you lost your mind," he said pointing in the direction of the roof.  
  
"It wasn't that bad."  
  
Reinhardt looked up. How many falls, jumps, and serious wounds did he take in Dracula's castle? Had it really been ten years since that pivotal encounter? Reinhardt turned to a still youthful Henry. "I'm going home, you stay on watch tonight."  
  
"Understood," Henry began to watch as Reinhardt walked away slowly. "Reinhardt!" He called to him. When he saw that he had turned he said, "it was a good plan." ________________________  
  
Carrie sat quietly on a sofa in the study holding a book in her hands. She rested the book on her lap for she was actually lying on the sofa and not really sitting. From a distance it would appear that she was just reading the Shakespearean play of Hamlet, but upon closer inspection one would see that in fact the book was performing it for her. As her eyes glanced across the words, the book would recite them to her in character. Carrie's gaze broke away from the book when she heard a knock on the door. Carrie left the book on the sofa and approached the door. Before opening it Carrie's eyes widen and in her mind she focused on the door. Suddenly Carrie was treated to a one way view through the door where she could see who was on the other side. It was a young man, about her age, pale looking, and slick looking black hair. Under his arm he held a stack of old books. With a flick of a finger Carrie opened the door and stepped back.  
  
Matthew Golden held tight to his books as he watched the door ominously open. It was not until he saw the image and figure of Carrie that he felt any sort of relief. Carrie bowed her head in a most unusual manner and beckoned for him to enter. Golden cautiously entered the house. Behind the door closed by itself. He turned to Carrie.  
  
"Who opened.closed the door?"  
  
Carrie smiled. "A ghost."  
  
"I am Matthew Golden. A Mr. Henry De Rais requested certain books from my father's private collection. Is the gentleman home?"  
  
Carrie's eyes opened wide, "books! Henry asked for books?" Carrie immediately snatched the stack of books from under Matthew's arm. "Oh, magical books. This is great." Carrie began to look through the larger of the books titled Index of Mystical Creatures from air, sea, to land. "Henry has told me about this book. Always known for its comprehensive list of almost everything great and small."  
  
"He also requested this one, The Lunar Phenomenon."  
  
Carrie begins to rustle through the pages of the index of the large book, "cats, Cerebrus, scythes." She then looked at Matthew. "Henry is out chasing monsters. He left late last night, its morning so he should almost be home by now."  
  
Matthew stared into her wide eyes, "say, you're different."  
  
"I should hope so, after all, you are a man, and I am a woman."  
  
"Would you like to take a walk with me?"  
  
Carrie smiled once more, "are you trying to go out with me?"  
  
"Well, I find you.interesting."  
  
"Most men that meet me frequently do." Carrie rummaged through the books some more before looking up at him. "What makes you so special?"  
  
"I have books," he said with a wicked smile, his first.  
  
Carrie suddenly felt a feeling that she could not place or recognize. Carrie left the books on the table and got up. "Let's see what kind of books you got.  
  
As the two leave, Rosa walks into the room where they were in and misses them by a second. Rosa thought about calling out, but she knew Carrie would not likely hear her. After they were gone, Rosa felt something unusual. In the center of the room was a small table where Carrie had left the books Matthew brought. Decorating that table was a vase of Rosa's white roses. Rosa walked to the vase with a water pitcher in hand and began to water it. Rosa pondered on the feeling she had. She almost dropped the pitcher when she saw it. Her white roses were red. Rosa placed the pitched on the table and backed away from it. Rosa looked all around her and noticed that all the reds of the room began to throb. Rosa closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. When she opened them again everything was back to normal. Rosa stood alone in the room breathing heavily. She grabbed the books on the table and ran upstairs to the bedroom. By the time she reached the door to the bedroom she had calmed down a little. She clutched the doorknob for a second and took a deep breath before opening the door slowly. The bedroom was very spacious with white painted walls that gave the impression of infinite space. The bed was several feet away from the door. Opposite the bed was their dresser and to its left, the bathroom. The far wall had a window with a view to the street. On the bed, Reinhardt lay more asleep than awake. Rosa could hear him breathing heavily. This meant that he was extremely exhausted. Rosa sat on the bed next to him. She placed the books to his right and began to curl his hair with her fingers. Reinhardt opened his eyes and smiled at her. She smiled back.  
  
"I think our wizard of a daughter has just ran away with the delivery boy."  
  
Reinhardt turned to his right and looked at the books. "That would be the young Mr. Matthew Golden," Reinhardt then sat up and began to stretch his arms and back. "Henry requested some books belonging to his father."  
  
"How did it go last night?"  
  
"Terrible, or wonderful, depends on what news I will get this morning. If no one died then we can all be happy, for now. If someone was murdered then we have a lot to worry about."  
  
Rosa clutched his hand. "Reinhardt, I want to send our son to my mother's home in Coventry."  
  
Reinhardt looked at his wife. "What's the matter?"  
  
"I have a bad feeling about all this. Something is wrong, I don't feel at ease." Reinhardt then hugged his wife and held her in his arms.  
  
"There is nothing to worry about. This case is no different from any other."  
  
"You're wrong. I feel something ominous." She paused. "Have you considered allowing Henry to take care of it?"  
  
"Right now he is. He's the one out there, not me."  
  
"I mean from now on."  
  
Reinhardt looked into her eyes. "Retire?"  
  
"Surely you have done enough these past years. Reinhardt you have fought countless unspeakable horrors. You have even fought Dracula himself. Is it not time you considered just raising your family and letting someone else do the job? Those three months we just spent in France were wonderful. Michael got to have his father, and I had my husband. I know I agreed to this life, and now I am being selfish, but I must ask."  
  
Reinhardt listened to her pleas and suddenly remembered a similar conversation he had with his brother, Werner, so many years ago. His pleas to forget the life that their own father raised them for now echoes in his ears.  
  
"Think about it Reinhardt." Rosa then gently grabbed Reinhardt's right hand and placed it on her belly. "Think about it, think of your children."  
  
Although Reinhardt knew it was to soon to feel anything, he could swear that he sensed the new life brewing in his wife's belly. Reinhardt buried his face in her chest and contemplated her words. ________________________  
  
It was not until twelve o'clock lunchtime that Henry returned. Weary from staying up all night and morning on watch he allowed himself to faint on the sofa in the study. Reinhardt came down from upstairs after having taken a shower and dressed himself in his traditional shirt and vest combination. Under his arm he carried the books that Matthew Golden had brought for Henry. Reinhardt laid the books on the table in front of Henry and then sat himself in a chair opposite the sofa.  
  
"How was the watch?"  
  
"No one died," Henry said with his head face down on a cushion of the sofa. He then lifted his head and looked at Reinhardt, "for how long would you go without sleep?"  
  
"Several days, with practice, of course. Now I can barely get through a day without a nap." Reinhardt said sarcastically. "Henry, what is it in these books you want to look for?"  
  
"I am investigating two threads of evidence. One would be the hair, the second would be the full moons."  
  
"You have the same theory I do about the hair."  
  
"I have a deeper theory." Henry sat up and grabbed the book titled Index of Mystical Creatures from air, sea, to land. Henry quickly flipped toward the middle of the voluminous text. Finally Henry let loose and loud "aha!" Henry looked up at Reinhardt gestured for the hair sample. Reinhardt handed it to him and Henry compared it to a page in the book. He then flipped the book around so that Reinhardt could compare it himself. Reinhardt took the hair and placed above one of the detailed drawings in the book.  
  
"We both knew that it was a wolf hair. The kind of wolf hair was the question. A wolf hair of that length, shape, and color I have seen only once before in my life."  
  
Reinhardt looked up to Henry. "A man-wolf."  
  
"Not exactly the same as a werewolf. A werewolf is a man who turns into a wolf because of a cursed bloodline. That bloodline can be passed to another via a wolf bite. Man-wolves on the other hand are supernatural in nature. They were born that way and no one knows why. Their origins go back to the time of the ancients. Also their bite is not poisonous, its just plain deadly."  
  
"And you have told me on several occasions that they no longer exist."  
  
"One legend about their origins says that they were once men like you and I. The ancients wanted to gamble how quickly they could make humans eat their own kind. The result was that one of the ancients turned a large group of humans into man-wolves. As man-wolves they carried many similar characteristics as humans, such as walking on two feet and walking up right. Unfortunately their personalities were like those of animals. For many years they killed and hunted humans. It was not until the invention of rapid loading guns that they finally had to leave humans alone. Finally they surrendered completely and sealed away their wolf form forever. The man-wolf that spearheaded the motion to rejoin humanity was named Cornell."  
  
"You have told me about him."  
  
"Cornell once helped murder a family of humans. The only survivor was a small little girl. That girl was Ada. Seeing how frightened she was did something to Cornell that made him see that man-wolves were a dying species that had to rejoin humanity. All man-wolves sealed their powers but Cornell also believed that the seed of great power within them all carried a certain responsibility. He therefore went away for some time to try and see if he could control that power. He did learn to control some of it, but when he returned.well you know the rest. Dracula had taken everyone from the village and a former man-wolf betrayed his people to Dracula in exchange for full access to the power that had been sealed away from him. Cornell saved me and Ada."  
  
"What happened to Cornell?"  
  
"I don't know. He stayed with us for sometime. We seemed to be happy. Then one day, not too long before I met you for the first time, he disappeared."  
  
"Was he still a man-wolf?"  
  
"Dracula robbed him of something. What I don't know. He never tried to use his power again, but he still felt the animal inside him. That is why he left. He felt ashamed. He was afraid he was still an animal on the inside. Ada and I tried to ease him but nothing worked."  
  
"Do you think it is possible that it is him that is behind these murders."  
  
Henry paused for several moments and he looked into Reinhardt's eyes. "The Cornell I knew would never do it. He has a guilt ridden conscience, but he's not a murderer."  
  
"He used to hunt humans down."  
  
"That was before."  
  
"This is now. If it is Cornell, then you have no idea where he has been or what he has been through. Always keep an open mind, Henry." Reinhardt stood up and stood over him for a moment. "I won't always be there to keep yours open for you." He then got up and walked away to leave Henry alone. "Is that supposed to mean something?" Henry yelled after him. ________________________  
  
Reinhardt traveled by coach to the Campbell Club. It was a large Victorian looking building with a tall metal fence surrounding it. At each corner of the roof of the building the Union Jack flapped away in the wind. The inside of the Club was no different. It was decorated with many iconic images of Great Britain. Knight's armors a framed copy of the Magna Carta to name a few of the objects on display. The building was composed of various libraries and sitting rooms where self-respecting gentlemen could read and discuss the paper or a book from their own private collection. Reinhardt requested to meet the owner of the club, Samuel Campbell. Reinhardt was taken to his private office, which was a large room lined with bookcases on either side. A beautiful walnut desk was the centerpiece with a large window behind it. Mr. Campbell stood and took Reinhardt's hand.  
  
"How can I help you Mr. Schneider?" Campbell smiled like a man with all the confidence in the world. His dark hair was combed straight back and he wore a brown flannel jacket over a red vest and white shirt.  
  
"Currently I am assisting the Municipal Police in their investigation of the murder of three of your club members. I wanted to know if your position as club founder and general friend to all your members you could give some information as to what their dealings were up until their deaths."  
  
"Of course, I should want to help in any way."  
  
"Let us start with the banker, Joseph Schwartz."  
  
"Joseph I know was having some trouble at home, he and his wife were having arguments. He openly admitted to me that he loathed being at home. He much preferred work. Why? I have no idea. It was something that had been building for some time but recently it exploded with him just abandoning his wife whenever he could. He even went so far as to begin bringing his work here to the club. I have some of his documents should you want to see them."  
  
Reinhardt nodded and watched as Campbell rose up from his seat to search a cabinet in the room's corner. Campbell continued talking as he brought and handed the batch of papers to Reinhardt. The papers were held together by a string of rope tied around them. Reinhardt fastened the roped and began to peruse the papers. They were composed of mainly charts listing recent bank transactions that Schwartz had taken care of himself. Reinhardt noted a name that appeared with great frequency, Malory Ulysses Svenson. He would have to ask Campbell if he knew the name. ________________________  
  
Henry sat quietly with his head buried in a book. Several hours of reading through mystical texts would do that to someone. Rosa walked into the library with a tray of coffee and two cups. She patted Henry on the head and he gave a soft groan.  
  
"Working hard?"  
  
Henry groaned again. He lifted his head and stretched. "These mystical texts are sometimes hard to decipher. They say one thing yet may mean another. Some of it is all rubbish, other parts, however fantastical are fact."  
  
"Have you found anything that might help Reinhardt?"  
  
Henry smiled at her concern for his friend and her husband. "Mortecon," Henry said simply.  
  
Rosa mouthed the word and dared not say it for some reason. Henry continued his explanation. "It was something I noticed by accident. Apparently it is like all Hallows Eve. Supposedly only on that night, or in this case, Mortecon, it is the one time of the year that the dead can become one with the living. The difference is that on Hallows Eve it is only one night. In the case of Mortecon, it goes on for an entire month. The reason it does not happen every year and at a specific month is because it happens only during a month where every other night is a full moon. That is something that is not too common. That little coincidence seems to be more irrefutable evidence that where are dealing with some kind of supernatural beast. It could be some long dead beast that has come back for this month of Mortecon." Henry sipped his coffee.  
  
"There is one thing you have overlooked. These murders seem to have motive. All three were part of the same men's club. Also, their professions leave one wondering if there was any more connections."  
  
"Henry nodded at her deductive reasoning. "Yes, we know, that is why Reinhardt is at the club talking to the owner. He is investigating that side, I'm working the supernatural angle of this case." Henry scratched his head. "A very odd case indeed."  
  
"Rosa sipped from her cup as well and then sighed. "I suppose I'll leave you to your investigations. Do you have any idea when Carrie will return?"  
  
"None at all." Henry proceeded to read some more of the book before him. After Rosa left the room Henry checked to see that she was out of earshot and then dropped his head into the book and drifted back to sleep. Rosa once again made her way to the back door to the garden. Rosa breathed a sign of relief as she entered the greenhouse. The scent of white roses comforted her and she felt as though she was flying on a sea of grass. She loved to be in this small shack filled with the lifeblood of nature itself. The fact that Reinhardt had made it with his bare hands just for her made it feel thrice as warm and relaxing. It was a physical testament to his affection for her. Rosa clutched her belly and thought that soon there would be yet another symbol of their love for each other. Her thoughts then drifted to Michael. Against every instinct as a mother she sent Michael away to her mother's home in Coventry along with several of her maids. She always went with him and never sent him with anyone except his own father and perhaps Henry. She felt something foreboding, something dangerous on the horizon. These murders are not what they seem to be. Against all logic, for the sake of the baby she carried in her womb, she should have left with Michael. Something kept her here. She did not know what. It was at that moment that it began to happen again. Suddenly Rosa's vision blurred red. Her beautiful white roses turned blood red. Were it not for Henry's sweet dreams, he would have heard Rosa screaming. ________________________  
  
Carrie was in heaven. She sat on the floor with a book on her lap, books hovering around her, and Matthew reading over her shoulder, literally. Carrie could feel the light touch of Matthew Golden's chin on her right shoulder. They had spent the entire day together and apparently planned on the evening as well. They had walked around several parks during the afternoon when Matthew, with having to pressure too much, asked Carrie to see the bookstore. Reinhardt had been her foster father for many years now. Also Reinhardt had charged himself with balancing her schooling of knowledge in the regular world as well as the mystical. Much to Carrie's frequent stagnation, he regimented in small controlled portions what she could read and learn about the mystic arts. It was his belief as he had been trained slowly and in steps to become a vampire hunter, so should she be trained in the mystic arts. Today she threw all that out the window and drowned her nose in books about spells, incantations, and hand gestures. Her concentration was broken when Matthew pecked her on the cheek. She turned instantly at him and smiled.  
  
"I'm sorry?" Carrie smiled and peered into his eyes. The eyes that overwhelmed her with a feeling she could not place.  
  
"No, I am sorry. Was I too fast?"  
  
Carrie suddenly sounded flustered, "well no, its just." Matthew stopped her in mid-sentence and kissed her on the lips. Carrie was frozen for a moment. When their lips parted she just stared into his eyes. He broke the silence and began to speak as though it were the most natural thing in the world.  
  
"You know, you are going to be a great sorceress one day. I know you will. Your powers are greater than you think. Reinhardt is only limiting you." Carrie remained silent, as she was too busy pondering his kiss. Matthew searched through a tall pile of books before finding what he was looking for. After finding the right book he then began to flip the pages until he found the passage he wanted. After several more moments of silence, Matthew let out a loud "eureka!" he turned and knelt beside Carrie who looked towards him instead of the book. "I was wondering if you would read this aloud and tell me if you know what it means. My father found it important just before he died. Perhaps it has some relevance." Carrie looked at the passage and began to read it aloud.  
  
"uyo mumdy uyo tusj llef ofr eth lod drea eth gape louda nad teg pnohytized toin a rancet ssagpea rickt."  
  
Carrie went silent after speaking the last word. In an instant the horrible significance behind the words dawned on her far too late. ________________________  
  
His eyes opened. He was in a corridor. Immediately he jumped to his feet and stood on his toes. His nose sniffed a familiar scent in the air. His animal mind worked so fast that he did not bother to think about where he recognized the scent, only that he did and he remembered that he must follow it. On all fours he ran into the light. The light struck him hard for he had been in darkness for a very long time. Slowly he scoured back into the coolness of the dark. He positioned himself under a box where he could watch the light. When it was gone, then he would search for the scent. At regular intervals he willed his muscles to turn and move so that his limbs would not fall asleep. For many hours he watched the man-things walk back and forth and do their business. Males and females walked the stone roads dressed in fluffy outfits that he could not at the moment contemplate ever wearing. They were different from him. Or so he thought. He was not sure. He had seen man-things commit horrible atrocities just as he had done onto them. Perhaps the man-things were not that far detached from him. He once thought perhaps the vice versa, but he had yet to prove it. After many hours of sitting and waiting, the dark came. He stared up at the sky, a full moon. Not his, but perhaps the moon belonged to the other, his other. He wanted to find it, but first he must follow the scent he recognized. It called to him as though he knew it. Could he know it? He did not remember. Perhaps it would tell him. He jumped out into the road on all fours and began to gallop in the direction of the familiar scent. As he galloped the man things looked at him in both fear and with curiosity, Many of them pointed at him and either screamed or laughed. Several of them he rammed with his head and dropped them to the floor. At one corner he stopped. He felt that sensation in his head. It was so familiar. It was the feeling of the other The other was on the streets as well. With his eyes he could also see what the other saw. The other was behind him. He began to run faster and faster, his animal mind unable to reason that he was leading the other to his prey. With the other close behind him he finally reached the source of the familiar scent. It came from a red brick structure. He saw steps leading to a door but instead leapt to the air and scaled the walls to the roof. On the roof there was a window that looked down to one of the upper rooms. He kicked the window with his left foot and the glass shattered at his feet. He jumped down and landed perfectly on all fours. ________________________  
  
Henry awoke to the sound of breaking glass. Such an unusual sound that immediately his instincts told him that something was afoot. Henry got up slowly from the desk where he had been reading and walked to the nearby sofa where he had left his weapons. Henry rolled across the ground to where his two Scholster .44 caliber revolvers were holstered. Quickly he dropped their hinged barrel and checked the chambers on both of them. The only noise heard was the clicking of the guns as their barrels came back up and clicked in place. Henry pulled back on their respective hammers as silently as possible. The door leading to the living room was open. He could not remember if Rosa had left them open or not. With great caution he stepped outside and into the living room. Once again he rolled across the floor behind one of the sofas. From behind the sofa he had a clear vantage point to check the 180 degrees in front of him. Staring at the front windows and door he concluded that the intruder had not entered through the front. This meant he must be.behind him! Henry spun quickly to face what was behind him. To his left was the door to the kitchen, it was closed. To his right was the door he had just come through. Directly in front him were the stairs leading to the upper bedrooms. Gun raised and poised to shoot at anything in his field of vision, he slowly went up the steps. Halfway up, one of the wooden steps creaked under his weight. Henry stood still for an instant and breathed. The upper hallway was slightly visible from the halfway point of the stairs. He was aiming to the right of the hallway that led to Carrie's room. Had she returned? Could she be practicing her magic in her room and accidentally dropped something? Henry also had to think of Rosa. She could be cleaning even at this late hour. Women were infamous for dropping things. Henry paused and considered calling out Rosa and Carrie's names. In that split second of thought, a great shadow ran across the hall to the left. Henry allowed himself to be distracted. The speed of the shadow eliminated all doubt from Henry's mind; he was not alone. Henry switched the direction of his guns to begin facing the left side of the hall where Reinhardt and Rosa's room was. Coming up the stairs the left side was a complete blind spot but Henry stood aiming anyway. When he reached the top of the stairs he back to back his way into the direction of Carrie's room. He wanted to see how this invader entered. As he backed he saw something moving in the shadows. It hovered close to the ground so that told Henry that he was dealing with an animal. At last, this could be the infamous killer that he had been searching for. The hallway was very dark meaning that either no one was up here or they were asleep. The sound of breaking glass would surely have wakened Carrie, especially if it happened in her own room so she could not be in the house. Rosa on the other hand was not known for being a light sleeper. The shadow seemed to walk closer to Henry as he backed into Carrie's room. It matched his each step but stopped short of the light coming from the staircase. Henry kept one gun aimed in the direction of the shadow but now looked up at the ceiling of Carrie's room. The skylight had been broken through on one side. Henry looked at the shadow intently pondering his next move. He considered just letting the animal make its own move first. Henry stood motionless feeling the slight breeze coming from the now broken skylight. Suddenly the breeze was gone and Henry felt a sudden instinct to look upwards. The darkness of the night sky did not let Henry see what was falling through the skylight but he could see that it was large enough to fill the whole frame. Without thinking Henry rolled out into the direction of the shadow. The huge figure crashed through the ceiling and landed on all fours in Carrie's bedroom. The animal was twice the size of any normal wolf. Looking at it Henry was reminded of the giant three headed dogs that had taken over the entrance to his parent's villa. The giant wolf's eyes shone red in the darkness. He could see that they were looking at him. Its long jaw dropped and salivated all over the carpeted floor. The wolf suddenly charged in Henry's direction and broke the whole of the room's doorway. Henry was ready to fire his weapons when the shadow that had been behind him without warning leapt straight at the giant wolf. As it passed him Henry saw that what he had thought to be an animal had really been a man. Henry heard two distinct howls. The large wolf seemed to almost get on two of its feet and battled the human with its front two feet. The man seemed to be giving the wolf quite a fight when suddenly it took a bite at him and threw him over the halls railing. The human shape fell down to the first floor of the house. Henry yelled and fired his weapons as rapidly as possible. The wolf charged at him and in seconds Henry felt himself being thrown through the hall and through the door to Reinhardt and Rosa's bedroom. Henry tried to get himself up but his arms failed him. The sound of breaking wood attracted his attention and he looked up to see the oversized wolf breaking through the doorway and coming towards him slowly. The last thing that Henry saw were the two blood red eyes staring into his. ________________________  
  
"Malory Ulysses Svenson," Reinhardt said.  
  
"Ah," Campbell said simply.  
  
"Was he a member of the club?"  
  
"No, but he might as well have been. He talked with almost everyone."  
  
"Including the three dead?"  
  
"Especially. Although Golden did not like him. Never knew why."  
  
"What did he do for a living, what was his business here at the club?"  
  
"He was sort of the entourage to some new count from east Europe."  
  
"Count?"  
  
"Yes. Apparently he had adopted the title recently and wished to make a name for himself by making big money deals and making himself relatively known to all. Essentially he is probably some spoiled eastern European brat that wants to look like a legitimate count. Schwartz had some minor dealings with the royal family that which this Svenson wanted to get his master in on. The best way to make yourself known and look legitimate is to do favors for the royalty."  
  
Reinhardt stared at the paper he had on his lap. The name seemed to strike a chord in his mind. "And the real estate man?"  
  
"Svenson would come by often to see what kind of properties he was selling. Always inquired about the worst places. Old churches, houses, and crypts. It was all very unusual."  
  
  
  
Reinhardt began to write the name on a piece of paper.  
  
Malory Ulysses Svenson  
  
Seven Sons Loss Ma Yuly R  
  
Reinhardt peered at his paper. He then tried the initials. M U S  
  
The familiarity of the name plagued Reinhardt. "Why did you accept an eccentric like Golden into the club?"  
  
"Oh, he was alright. He lost the job at a distinguished museum because of some fraud scandal. Still he was quite normal. It was only towards then end that he really began to show his eccentricity. With the exception of the time after losing his job, he was quite sociable and never discussed his studies."  
  
"Scandal?"  
  
"Yes. He failed to prove some dusty old skeleton as a fraud so the museum fired him."  
  
Reinhardt paused and thought. "That's odd. His son told me that he was fired because of his obsession with the occult."  
  
"Good heavens no! That was only towards the end really. At least he made it public knowledge to us at the end. I always imagined that he had some weird business going on at his bookstore but the occult had nothing to do with his losing his job at the museum." Campbell looked at Reinhardt. His expression was as if he had seen a ghost. Not very concerned with his expression Campbell asked, "did you say you spoke to Golden's son?"  
  
Reinhardt's face became very serious. "Why?"  
  
"He had none. In fact I could probably swear to you that he never even touched a woman."  
  
Reinhardt stood up and dropped the papers on Campbell's desk. His mind was racing to put the facts together. Campbell looked surprised at Reinhardt's sudden urgency. Reinhardt meanwhile stared at the paper where he had been scrambling the name.  
  
"Malory Ulysses Svenson, what did he look like?"  
  
"Rather young, twenty some thing. Slick black hair. Always had ink on his hands. That was his most disagreeable trait. I could never tell whether it was because he would color his hair or if it was some kind of hair moose."  
  
Reinhardt suddenly slammed his fist on Campbell's desk. He grabbed a pencil and underlined five letters from the name written at the top. Then Reinhardt wrote the letters underneath the name.  
  
Malory Ulysses Svenson  
  
Malus.  
  
Reinhardt stared at the paper, horrified by the impossibility of it all. "No!" he yelled loudly. Reinhardt then scrambled through some paperwork that the real estate man had left in the club. A plot of land sold to Malory Ulysses Svenson. Reinhardt saw the address, took the paper, and stormed out of the room without so much as a word to Campbell.  
  
Reinhardt ran out of the building that was the Campbell club and immediately looked around for a carriage. From behind him one came up from the street. Reinhardt ran in front of it and the horses went into a panic. The driver began to yell curses at Reinhardt. Reinhardt leapt onto the top of the carriage and pushed the driver off of his seat. He took the reins and called the horses to begin galloping. The carriage began to travel faster and faster until after several minutes it seemed to be traveling at death defying speeds. When the carriage reached Reinhardt's home, it nearly did not stop. Reinhardt bolted from the top of the carriage and ran for the door, which he saw, was wide open.  
  
"Rosa! Carrie! Henry!" he yelled. He ran upstairs to find that both bedrooms had been through some kind of battle. Blood on the floor of his bedroom told him that the struggle was great. Thrown to one side of the room were Henry's two revolvers. Reinhardt grabbed the both of them and touched their nozzles. They were ever slightly warm with only three bullets left between the two of them. Downstairs he found some more signs of struggle. Two bodies dragged away by two different people. One of them was strong the other slightly weak. Whatever came in through the skylight in Carrie's room also exited the same way. Reinhardt did not understand who the other person was. Indentation in the wood of the first floor indicated that someone was thrown from above. For his piece of mind, Reinhardt checked the green house. What he saw did not make him feel better. A cape that Rosa wore when it was chilly at night lay on the floor. Puzzling was that the door was locked from the inside and then busted outwards as well. Rosa locked herself in and then fought to get out. Why? Reinhardt did not have to guess that Carrie was also gone as well. She had been with.the man named Golden. Now there was another question. Who was he? If indeed Matthew and this Malory were one and the same, then how could he also be Malus? Malus is dead. His soul was destroyed the minute that Dracula took over his body. Reinhardt looked at his hands. His hands were the ones that last banished Dracula from this world. How could it be him? Who resurrected him? Sean Golden? For what purpose?  
  
Reinhardt walked back to the destroyed bedroom of his and his wife's. Most of the room's contents had been thrust to one corner of the room. At the bottom of the half buried dresser Reinhardt found the one box that Rosa had not unpacked and he hoped he would not have to. Opening it he found his hunting clothes, chest plate, backpack, leather and chain whip, and his throwing cross. Within ten minutes he was dressed and stood before the half- cracked mirror. Reinhardt stared at his own face. His fingers brushed his sides now thick with three days hair growth. His face had become a stern one. He thought for a moment how one does not really notice the passage of time from day to day, only when many years has passed. How much younger did he look more than a decade ago when he fought Dracula for the first time?  
  
When Reinhardt walked out of his battle ravaged home, he found that the carriage he had stolen was still there. Reinhardt unhooked one of the horses and set upon it a saddle he brought from the house. Although the horse was still a principle mode of transportation it was still somewhat uncommon to find someone riding a single horse in the city. Nevertheless, Reinhardt rode at high speeds through the city of London in a direction that would take him away from the bustling city and into the wooded outskirts that lay between it and the next city and many others after that.  
  
________________________  
  
The sound of a loud voice screaming was what awoke Henry. He opened his eyes and saw a figure with hands and feet bound laying several feet away from him. Both of them lay on the cold stone floor of a small chamber with rows of coffins stacked one on top of the other. They were in some kind of crypt. Henry felt that his hands and feet were also tied together and so he was unable to move very much. The figure beside him stopped screaming but seemed to be trembling. He was dressed in brown leather across his shoulders and a blue shirt across his chest. He was bare foot and had a shackle around his left ankle. The white hair on his head left no doubt in Henry's mind as to the identity of his companion.  
  
"Cornell?"  
  
The figure suddenly stopped trembling and rolled over to face him. To Henry's surprise, he looked into the same identical face that he had seen for the first time almost thirty years ago.  
  
"You haven't changed a bit."  
  
"Henry?"  
  
A smile crept across his face, "yes." After a moment, his face became serious again. "Where have you been all these years?"  
  
He did not seem to be himself. Henry could see in Cornell's face confusion and anxiety. Cornell seemed to be grasping at reality. Finally Cornell looked Henry in the eye and said, "all over the world, I think."  
  
"Why did you leave Ada and I?"  
  
Slowly, the memories seemed to crawl back into Cornell's head. "You two were happy together. I had no right to impress my presence on you. I was a danger."  
  
"You were not! Cornell, you are carrying the guilt for things, which were beyond your control. None of what happened to your people is your fault. You cannot continue blaming yourself for their extinction. You cannot even continue to carry the guilt of all their sins."  
  
"The man-wolves live within me Henry. Their sins are my own. I am the man- wolf. That is why I am here. I sensed that another was using their power. I could not allow it."  
  
"You could sense the deaths?"  
  
"I witnessed them. Whoever was tapping into the man-wolf power was forcing me to see the murders be committed." Cornell remained silent. "Horrible sights. It drove me somewhat mad. I lost control. When I crashed into your home I was in a total animal state. For sometime I was not sure if perhaps I was the one committing the murders."  
  
"I never believed that you did it. I know you are better than that."  
  
Cornell looked at Henry. In his eyes he could see that the young man trusted him with his life. Cornell felt encouraged and at the same time reticent to accept such trust from him. Suddenly the door to the chamber they were in swung open and two figures stood silhouetted at the doorway. The time had come, for what, neither Cornell nor Henry knew. ________________________  
  
Reinhardt approached the town of Walthemstuw after having ridden a full day non-stop. The small town unknowingly sat in the southwest corner of a large henge. Apparently the thinly dug out border circling the general perimeter of the town had escaped the eyes of the common man. Still a somewhat backward town, the principle path leading to its entrance was still a dirt road. Instead of following the dirt road, Reinhardt followed the dug out border of the henge. By following it, Reinhardt was circling the town and then slowly riding away from it. As he followed the line the town became smaller. Finally something else grabbed his attention. In the distance, a campfire seemed to have been laid. Reinhardt turned away from the henge border and headed for the light. Like many henges, the area within the dug out circle was a plain field with no trees. This meant that whoever was around the fire would see Reinhardt's approach. As the distance between the light and Reinhardt became shorter, he decreased his speed. The glare of the campfire turned into a mysterious aura emanating from what appeared to be a stone circle. Reinhardt disembarked off his horse and left it about a yard away from the circle. The stones were nothing like those of the famed stone henge. They were much smaller in size and most seemed to have fallen and be partially buried underground. In total, the stone circle covered about a twenty-meter area. Standing tall in the direction of the north was a single large tree. Looking from behind one of the taller stones, Reinhardt observed a group of about ten gathered within the circle. The ground around the circle was damp, as though something had been dropped over it. Reinhardt saw that it was water and that a trail of salt had been laid over it. From where Reinhardt stood he could smell incense. Slowly, and as quietly as possible, Reinhardt darted behind another stone that was closer to the group. Now he could see that an altar had been placed before the large tree. Two candles sat atop the altar. Behind the altar stood a hooded man dressed in black. Kneeling before the altar were two more hooded figures. Behind the altar were two of the larger stones. Tied to those stones were Henry and most likely his old friend Cornell. Reinhardt was now close enough to hear what the hooded man behind the altar was saying.  
  
"By the power of the Goddess and her horned consort, I know pronounce ye." The High priest had his hand raised and stared upwards toward the sky.  
  
"Stop!" Reinhardt yelled loudly so that it might echo in the night air. The large group of hooded figures turned to face him. "Are you not supposed to ask if there is anyone with a reason that these two should not be wed?" Reinhardt unwrapped his chain whip from around his waist. Doing so filled him with a sense of déjà vu. He now felt as though the past twenty years had never happened. He was a man of thirty-five once more.  
  
At the front of the altar, the couple stood up from the ground and removed their hoods. Although many years had passed, and he looked slightly older, the face was unmistakable. The pale skin and the oddly colored hair that once belonged to a young boy Malus, now was still the embodiment of Vlad Dracula. To his right side, stood in a trance like state, Carrie Fernandez, Reinhardt's adopted daughter.  
  
"The clues were all there. I just did not put them together. The wolf attacks were some how caused by the power you stole from Cornell. The black ink on your hands, to color your hair. I also read Henry's notes. Mortecon.under its conditions, so long as a full moon had passed the previous night, spirits summoned back from hell could walk the earth among the living. But to remain here you must wed one of the living underneath a full moon."  
  
Dracula laughed. "Yes, all correct. This small band of followers of the horned goddess were kind enough to bring me back for the month of Mortecon."  
  
"And the three men murdered?"  
  
"Ah, that you must deduce yourself. I will say only that the elder Golden knew too much from his ancient books."  
  
Reinhardt addressed the hooded witnesses. "What has he promised you? Power? A share when he rules the world? You are all fools!" Reinhardt yelled at them. Then he pointed back to Dracula, "and you. Tired of damning the Christian religion, now you are perverting old Celtic. You are an abomination."  
  
Dracula laughed louder than before. "And you have interfered with me for the last time!" A howl emerged from behind the altar. The high priest screamed and he was suddenly torn in two. The enormous wolf leapt from the shadows beneath the tree and into the center of the circle. The hooded followers dispersed quickly, fearing for their lives. Reinhardt noticed that one of them stood still beside Dracula. Reinhardt was face to face with the wolf. Saliva dripped from its slightly open jaw. Its red eyes glowed in the gloom of night. All of them were draped in the unusual aura of the circle. The wolf charged at Reinhardt but he managed to leap out of its way. Instead of striking him, he hit one of the larger stones. The wolf wailed in pain. It spun around quickly and faced Reinhardt once more. Reinhardt lashed out his whip and struck the wolf across the face. The ball of Reinhardt's whip returned to him stained in blood and holding small pieces of flesh. The whip swung around above Reinhardt's head. Blood dripped over the lycanthrope's eyes as the wound across its face throbbed in tune with its heartbeat. As suddenly and as quickly as he could, Reinhardt brought his whip down on the creature's head. He heard the crack of the skull and a howl of pain come from behind him. Cornell was yelling as though experiencing the pain as well. He looked and saw that Dracula too seemed to stumble as though some of the life had been drained from him. The wolf's body went limp after two more blows from the morning star of Reinhardt's whip. He turned to find Dracula on his knees while holding his head in his hands.  
  
"Pain. The pain you have made me feel! Now I shall make you feel pain." Dracula turned and faced the single hooded figure from the followers that had remained. Its hood went down to reveal blonde hair and its cloak opened to reveal a red dress.  
  
"Rosa!" Reinhardt looked in horror as his wife stood before him, pale as the dead hissing at him with her mouth open showing a full set of fangs. His whip dropped from his blood stained hands and he suddenly felt numb all over. Rosa threw herself onto him in her vampyric state. On instinct alone, Reinhardt managed to defend himself from her constant attempts to connect her fangs to his neck. After several moments of rolling on the ground, he managed to get on top of her. He held her hands to the ground as tightly as he could. He felt as though her strength had doubled. Reinhardt stared upwards, "Lord, forgive me." He then released her and jammed his fist hard against the right side of her face. He felt her body go limp between his legs. Immediately he crouched down to her belly and pressed his ear against it. Of course it was too soon to hear anything, Rosa had not even gained weight yet. His fatherly instincts nevertheless compelled him to listen to the womb for some sign of life.  
  
"A great irony, is it not? That one who has spent his life fighting vampires should fall in love with one."  
  
"She was fine until your return! Your presence must have somehow reversed the curse you had placed over her once more."  
  
"Did you not ever wonder why it is that you feel so compelled to love her?"  
  
Reinhardt stood up and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.  
  
"It was the alluring power of the vampire that attracted you to her. Even after my death, she maintained you entranced.enthralled to her. The blood of the vampire flows through her veins thanks to my power. So long as I live, she will always be mine."  
  
Reinhardt could contain his rage no longer. He spun around and charged at Dracula, grabbing him by the collar of his cloak with one hand and holding his sword to his neck with the other. "All the more reason to kill you and be done with it!"  
  
Dracula grinned. "Yours will not be a victory this time, scion of the Belmont. I will not disappear into ashes or go to sleep for a hundred years so easily. I give you a choice. One, give me your wife's incoming child."  
  
"Never!" The point of Reinhardt's sword began to touch the skin of Dracula's neck.  
  
"Two, give me your adopted daughter Carrie."  
  
Reinhardt's grip on the collar of his cloak tightened. "And what if I just kill you as I did before?"  
  
"Three.Kill me, but be prepared to suffer the consequences."  
  
"I would see my family safe from you even if I have to drag you through the gates of hell myself!" Reinhardt then thrust his sword through Dracula's heart and twisted it while still inside. Dracula fell to his knees taking Reinhardt, who could no longer release the sword, with him. The aura of the stone circle became a brilliant red light. To Reinhardt it felt all too familiar. A vortex opened up beneath Dracula and slowly he began to sink into it. Reinhardt tried to let go of his sword but could not combat the force that was dragging him into the vortex as well. Dracula began to laugh, "you just might have to keep your word." Dracula was down to his waist and his arms reached out to grab Reinhardt. Reinhardt struggled and found himself dangerously close to the center of the vortex. Until now, Reinhardt had been staring into Dracula's eyes or away from the vortex, but this time, he stared directly into it. He suddenly felt himself become weaker and his hands seemed to finally slip off of the hilt of his sword. Could someone else's eyes look at Reinhardt, they would see that where as before, he had a few graying hairs, his hair was now receiving long and full streaks of white hair on both sides of his head. The vampire spoke once more, "for everything you must pay a price!" Dracula's laugh could be heard, but it was not the laughter of a man, but of an animal. In seconds, he was totally engulfed in the vortex and Reinhardt lay on the ground beside it as it closed.  
  
When Carrie awoke from her trance it was as though she had been asleep with her eyes open. Her hands covered her face as tears began to run down her cheeks. Her sobs did not go unheard for she suddenly heard the soft moan of Henry regaining consciousness.  
  
"Carrie?"  
  
Carrie looked around and saw that Henry was tied up to a stone along with someone else beside him. She then looked to the ground several feet away from her and saw the body of Reinhardt lying motionless. She ran to his side and turned him to face upwards. She placed her cheek over his mouth and felt his very faint breath. His pulse was also slacking.  
  
"Carrie, cut me loose!"  
  
The young girl ran behind the stone and focused her mind on the knot of the ropes that held Henry bound. Her hands poised themselves in a position to summon up magical energies for her to command. In a split second a bright glowing orb encased her hands and fired into the ropes. The ropes disintegrated to ashes and Henry was free. As per his instructions, Carrie did the same to the man that she now knew as Cornell. Carrie than proceeded to attend to Rosa whom she also found lying on the ground. When she first looked at her, her skin was pale, but slowly and surely it returned to its normal color right before her eyes.  
  
Cornell, with his incredible speed on foot, took a full fifteen minutes to run to the nearby town of Walthemstuw, find a doctor, convince him to come with him, and run back with the doctor and as much equipment he could carry over his shoulder. The town doctor succeeded in resuscitating Reinhardt after several different medicines and medical techniques. Nevertheless, Reinhardt was kept asleep in his bed for several days in a local inn before he could be considered fit for travel. The group had difficulty explaining to the doctor the circumstances or even the cause of his condition. One, they did not know, two, if they did, they could not explain it.  
  
Two days after the encounter with Dracula, Reinhardt was fit enough to walkabout and speak of what had happened. Henry took him away from the others to question him privately. They walked through the streets of the small town while Reinhardt recounted his side of the events and Henry listened.  
  
"You have told me everything that happened, but you have not explained."Henry gestured to the streaks of gray hair that now dominated the sides of Reinhardt's head.  
  
"Dracula said I would have to pay a price." Reinhardt allowed his fingers to brush through his hair. "Before all this happened, I was beginning to feel my age, now I certainly do feel it." He stopped in front of the window of a carpenter's shop. He remembered how so many years ago that he lived alone on top of a mountain. "I do not know how many years of my life he took away from me, but I do know that from now on I am going to live them the best I can."  
  
Henry saw his eyes meet his. He knew what he was trying to say. But before he could say anything, Reinhardt continued, "I am going back to London and I am going to be a father to my children and a husband to my wife. Few of my line have had to fight Dracula twice, and with good reason." Reinhardt paused and placed a hand on Henry's shoulder. "I have a charge to place upon you, and it is not an easy one."  
  
"Ask of me what you will."  
  
"I want you to find others such as yourself, men or women that are willing to fight to defend humanity against the darkness that plans against it in the shadows. I want you to find them, train them, and unite with them to protect man from the evils that it does not know. Will you do this for me?"  
  
Henry nodded, "Yes."  
  
A smile crept across Reinhardt's face. "Good. I also thought, your friend Cornell seems to have lost his purpose in life. Perhaps this might be an opportunity for him as well." ________________________  
  
The inn in which Reinhardt and the others were staying had two floors. Its triangularly shaped roof seemed fitly designed for people who wanted to escape through the window without paying. In Carrie's case it seemed an ideally isolated spot away from everyone else. For several hours through the night, everything was quiet. It was only until the sound of the window opening that she looked backwards again. The large shape of Reinhardt struggling to squeeze through the window cell forced her to climb up and help him out. After several brief moments they both sat beside one another on the declining roof. Silence settled between the two of them until Reinhardt spoke.  
  
"I understand how you must feel."  
  
"He took advantage over me feelings. He remembered, he knew that I had some lingering feelings for Malus. He used me!"  
  
"He uses everyone. One of his most evil traits is his ability to find the weakness in everybody. What makes us different from him is that we learn to accept our weaknesses. He wants to erase his. That is why one day he will have nothing human left in him." The silence between them returned and Reinhardt placed his arm around her.  
  
"It's getting cold. We should get back inside. Rosa will never forgive me if I let you catch a cold."  
  
"Malus is out there you know. His soul is lost somewhere. He's waiting for a chance to find a body. But for now he is trapped." Carrie looked to her adopted father. "I will free him one day." Reinhardt nodded when she said this. Carrie touched his hair. He seemed so much older now. Carrie placed her hand on his chest. From it came a gentle radiance colored in a brilliant green. There was a sudden flash and then it was gone.  
  
"Do you want to know how long?"  
  
Reinhardt hugged his daughter, "I don't need to.I don't need to." ________________________  
  
The man of semi-short stature sat in a chair across the desk of one of her majesty's ministers of trade. His normally thin mustache had grown somewhat out of hand. His skin was pale as though he had been locked in a cellar for many weeks. He was dressed in fine clothes and wore a bowler hat. In his very still hand he held walking cane with the head of a cat. The cat had one ear. The man across from the desk specialized in administering the private trades and exchanges of the royal family. His time was precious and was never to be wasted. Normally he was a very stern and serious man but on this occasion he felt it necessary to express his gratitude.  
  
"So Mr.?"  
  
"Gajette," the slightly diminutive man replied coldly.  
  
"You can promise delivery of these very rare spices from Romania?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Her majesty is more than happy with your offer. Soon she will be having a reception for some delegate from that part of Europe and would like to surprise them with a little flavor from the countryside. Of course she wanted to use some less obvious channels or else they might find out and the surprise lost." The man signed off on some papers and handed them to Gajette. "As for the request made by your employer, here is the list of different properties that matched his description."  
  
Gajette perused the list. His eyes suddenly fell upon one in particular, "Carfax Abbey."  
  
"Oh I placed that one on the list, but it is not for sale. There are still some residents. You could make them an offer however."  
  
Gajette suddenly reached out his hand and slipped it underneath his raised collar. He felt two small puncture wounds palpitating. In his mind he could hear a voice speaking to him. "Not yet," the voice said.  
  
"What was the name of your employer?"  
  
Gajette spoke in a trance like voice, "Dracula, Count Dracula." ______________________  
  
"There are far worse things awaiting man.than death" Count Dracula 


	2. Author Notes

Notes from the Author  
  
"I bid you welcome."  
  
Bela Logusi  
  
Before writing about Castlevania I had started to write several fan fictions ranging from Doctor Who to Highlander and had tried to sprout one work of original fiction. The key word is I started to write these, I never finished any of them. Most of them were the germ of bad ideas and therefore were left incomplete. So for a time I sort of floated in limbo. Writing no longer occupied a large amount of my time. I dedicated myself to reading and watching film. Some time would pass until I would be attracted to the prospect of writing once again. It was more than likely in December of 1999 that a good and dear friend of mine invited me over to his house one night. He knew all too well of my love of the Castlevania series. It just so happened that on that particular night he had rented Castlevania-Legacy of Darkness. Sitting in a darkened room, with my friend at the controls I for the first time viewed the dark and grim opening titles of the game. The music combined with its extremely cinematic quality made me think for the first time that this could make a really good movie. After I rented the game for myself and beat it, I was extremely impressed by the ending of the game. I had already loved Castlevania 64 so seeing the complete prologue story starring Cornell gave me another thought. "Boy would this make an awesome story to write!" The ending intrigued me. I thought that the final battle could be translated into words. Thus I began my first Castlevania fan fiction.  
  
Before I could write this incredible final battle I had to write everything that led up to it. At first I thought I could focus only on the Reinhardt and Carrie aspect of the story and not address Cornell's story. Thinking it over I found that it was tempting to do it that way but I soon found myself getting some bright ideas for Cornell's story as well. I sat down for the first time to write the prologue of my story having no idea what I was getting myself into. Two and a half years after writing the words "Pure darkness used to be a hard thing for him to describe," my enormous story was complete. In that time I had suffered through hardships dealing with my ailing grandparents health as well as my mother and uncle, and I managed to begin a relationship with an incredible woman. So with a one hundred and seventy-page labor of love under my belt, what was next?  
  
Chasing My Own Tale  
  
While writing my mammoth Legacy of Darkness story I decided to include a new sub plot. Reinhardt had a brother. The idea began like most of my ideas, with an image stuck in my mind. In this particular case I was stuck with the image of a woman standing in the middle of a lake with her head tilted to the side. Her neck was an offering for a vampire. I imagined a vampire and drinking from her. The obvious first question was "who is this woman and why is she letting a vampire drink her blood?" I decided that he was a "good" vampire. Why? Simple, because he is Reinhardt's brother! Eureka I had a story for my sequel to Legacy of Darkness. This while giving a story for a Castlevania sequel also I allowed me to explain a minor detail that had been bothering about the continuity of Legacy of Darkness. Why was no Belmont drawn to Dracula's castle during the time frame of Cornell's story? The answer is that one did but he never made it.  
  
I learned that one of the drawbacks to my Legacy of Darkness story was that it was novel length. Few people have the patience to read a novel totally on-line. With the exception of one person I can think of, no one has read the story from start to finish and as it progressed. You know who you are. My first decision regarding my sequel would be that it would be a short story. I decided early on that I wanted to explore the cast from Legacy of Darkness and would therefore write two short stories. The first would tell the story of Reinhardt's brother; the second would be a sort of reunion story that would tell us the ultimate fate of all our characters. With that in mind I began to work in some details. In my first story Reinhardt would be preparing to wed Rosa therefore by the end they would be husband and wife. My original concept would be that the story would run along two parallel quests. Reinhardt would search for his brother and Henry would search for Coller. At the end of Legacy of Darkness I was left with a great desire to resolve the story of Coller and make him a workable character. In order to iron out some details I also began to do some research into what was happening in history at that point in time. I landed on a gold mine. Konami apparently never realized that they placed Castlevania 64 right smack at the eve of the Crimean War. I had suddenly found my setting. I fast-forwarded my story in order to accommodate having the Russians invade Wallachia, a real event which I think I exploited rather well. All that was left was to outline the story. I decided that I would not repeat my mistake with Castlevania Legacy of Darkness by making it up as I went along. At an outline stage I found it much easier to write about Reinhardt's quest than Henry's. You see I had a very firm idea as to how Reinhardt would investigate his brother's disappearance. In Coller's case I really had no idea where Henry would find him. I had a very vague thought that perhaps Henry would find him fending off a Russian invasion of a Wallachian village and that together they would fight them together ala The Seven Samurai. That idea however never gave fruit. Coller was scraped from the story. I decided I would focus entirely upon Reinhardt. I gave Rosa an appearance at the beginning and at the end to bridge the gap of first being engaged and then married. Henry also makes an appearance to emphasize that Reinhardt and Henry planned on maintaining themselves in tight communication and that their futures would be entwined.  
  
I literally wrote the story in one month. Partly it was due to the fact that I had given the story so much thought that it was just a matter of putting it on paper. When it was done I felt that I had done my idea somewhat justice. Finally I had to think of a title. I didn't want to use Castlevania Chronicles because it was too obvious and already in use. Eventually I remembered a cartoon that I was fond of. Duck Tales. So I thought why not Castlevania Tales? I think it is original. But then I thought that this should sound like a series of stories and so I had to give it an even more specific title so that people didn't think that I was writing another novel. Somehow, don't ask how, I came up with Lost Blood. Not very original but I figured it described the story well enough. In case the meaning is too thin then let me spell it out. Werner is Reinhardt's missing family, his lost blood. And so that brought an end to one more story in my Castlevania career.  
  
Biting my own Tale  
  
With Lost Blood on the web, and a couple of good reviews, I felt enthusiastic about making my next story bigger and better. Unfortunately from the very start I came into conflict with myself. I wanted a bigger story but did not want to commit myself to a long haul. I had literally just finished my huge novel only two months before hand. I was not ready for another commitment. To someone outside the writing experience it might seem like I am talking about relationships rather than writing stories. The fact is that as much as I had written Legacy of Darkness as a labor of love for myself, I cannot deny that I had hoped for some acclaim for what I did. I don't mean I wanted my name being shouted across message boards as the greatest fan fiction writer of all time. I am far from it. I merely wanted I suppose some recognition. This lack of enthusiasm from Castlevania fans countered my high spirits to write an incredible finale to my little trilogy. In fact almost immediately I decided that this would be my swan song for Castlevania. Despite the fact that while writing Castlevania Legacy of Darkness, I had outlined several ideas for other Castlevania related stories, I had essentially given up. I began my outlining of my final story reluctantly. You see I was accustomed to frequenting the Castlevania Dungeon forums for feedback as to what fans wanted to see and hear. I quickly realized that Castlevania fans don't give a shit about fan fiction. Fans are very visual people. They like what they can see, listen, or play. Reading apparently requires too much effort on their part and does not provide enough stimulation. I had made several attempts to spark intelligent conversation about the possibilities of Castlevania fan fiction. They were normally met lukewarm at best, if at all. Thirty-seven views and three replies! The outline of my second Tales story went very slow. I knew I wanted to involve everyone from Legacy of Darkness into this one big story. I decided from before that this would involve Dracula's return and that at the end I wanted him to win in someway. I became fixated with the idea that this time around Dracula would offer our heroes a lose/lose choice. I wanted Dracula on top this time and to give my story an offbeat ending. In keeping with that idea I came to the conclusion that this would also mark the death of Reinhardt. Like most of my stories I imagine the ending first and then work my way backwards. My vision of this story's ending would be Reinhardt, Cornell, and Henry face to face with Dracula in a ruined Castlevania. Dracula would offer them a choice. Stop him from marrying Carrie and he will keep Rosa as a vampire and therefore ensure that her baby is a natural vampire. Kill him and therefore rescue both Carrie and Rosa but the one who does the deed will die. Knowing all too well that Reinhardt would not let anyone take his place where generations of his family have sworn to be the ones to always kill Dracula, Dracula knows that he will stop the others and give up his own life. The result is that Dracula wins by default because he has managed to kill a member of the Belmont line. That was my basic idea to give Dracula all the aces in the hole. Somehow I wanted him to win. Notice anyone missing from the roll call? At this point I had already given up on trying to include Coller into things. I felt that his character although had incredible potential was too distant from the central story of the rest of the cast. His character was more of a whim of mine to make a complete version of Legacy of Darkness by even including the deleted character. Ada was another character whom I felt should have been there but I could never fit in. I had hinted at the end of Cornell's story in my Legacy of Darkness that Henry and Ada would become an item. I had previously wanted to hint that they had become such in Lost Blood but never got around to it. It just was not relevant to the main story. Here again I wanted to include and make it clear beyond any reasonable doubt that in my story Cornell and Ada never had any hanky panky. Nevertheless she was stripped of making an appearance. But, I did have an idea for how she might be mentioned. When my outline had progressed sufficiently I had come up with the idea that the setting of my story would be around a series of murders. The central premise was that they were being committed by some kind of giant wolf. Thus I had a perfect vehicle to include Cornell into the mix of things. Next I had developed the character of the bookstore owner's son. One of my ideas was to throw in an odd detail that would at first seem weird but then later be suspicious. I wanted his hands to always have wet ink. Why you might ask? Simple, the ink was really hair dye designed to hide the true color of his hair. Being a bookworm always writing notes no one would suspect the real reason. Unlike my outline for Lost Blood, this one was turning out somewhat unsuccessful. As I wrote it I realized that somehow my good germ of an idea was not being realized. I attribute it to both a looming apathetic attitude to how it would turn out and rushed thinking. At a certain point I ran out of ideas. I decided I would start writing what I had outlined and then get back to the final act of my story. I wrote up the first three quarters of the story in relatively little time but then I was hit. Argh! Writer's block! When the block finally passed I came up with another unusual idea. I think its roots lie in the fact that I was a big fan of the recent remake of The Thomas Crown Affair. I came up with the idea that Henry should want to draw Cornell out. He figured that Cornell must not be quite right in the head and that he knew exactly how to bring him out. I began to write an overly exaggerated sequence involving Henry hiring hordes of women to dress in clothes that belong to Ada and wear white wigs. Henry would then have these women walk the streets of London in the hopes that Cornell might mistake one of them for the real Ada. The idea behind this was that all of Ada's clothes would have her scent on them, a scent, which as we all know Cornell was quite good at following. I thought it was a throwback to the idea that back in Legacy of Darkness that was how Cornell would follow Ada. However I pitched this idea to my girlfriend who promptly popped my balloon. Although she will never admit to hating the idea, she will say that she thought it was pushing the boundaries of reason, a little ridiculous in reasoning, and frankly I could do better. I considered disregarding her advice except that I remembered that women are mostly correct, especially with me. Swallowing my ego I then re-thought the scene and re-wrote it so that Cornell would follow Henry's scent and break into the house. So in the end Ada was completely cut form the story except for one odd mention.  
  
My next writer's block when I tried to write the climax of my story. At this point I had set up that Dracula now has everyone in his hands. It is now up to Reinhardt to rescue everyone and save the day. First question, where has Dracula taken everyone? I had originally wanted the ending to take place back at Castlevania but then I thought, this isn't the 21st century where you can just take the next flight to Transylvania. It takes time to get from London, England to the eastern Europe. It might take months to reach his destination. So in the interests of "keeping it real" I decided that Dracula would take them somewhere in England. At first a small village I thought. My earl imaginings were of the climax taking place at a church that had been stripped of all religious symbols. I held onto to that idea but eventually something hit me. Why not have the ending in a stone circle? Where the hell did I get that idea? You'd never guess. My favorite TV show of all time is Doctor Who. It just so happens that my girlfriend had bought me one of its episodes. It was called the Stones of Blood and it just so happened to center around a stone circle. I hastily did some research on stone circles and wrote it in. The very last detail was that I researched Celtic weddings. I thought that perhaps Dracula could not have a Christian wedding because he hated God. Is way around would be to subvert a Celtic group into performing one of their weddings. So my last bit of research led me to the "hand fasting" ceremony. Another idea behind that was to subtly address another topic that would I continue to write Casltevania stories I would develop. That topic would be Carrie's own beliefs. In Castlevania 64 it does not look like Carrie has much faith in God. Her magical background would indeed come into conflict with Christian dogmas. So how does she fit in and what does she believe. Can you have the power of a sorcerer and still believe in God?  
  
As written in my story Reinhardt stops Dracula but pays a price. In order to banish him he had to give up of his life force. Reinhardt is left with the knowledge that he will not live as long as he might have had he not killed Dracula. The idea I basically ripped off from Babylon 5 where John Sheridan dies and then is brought back but with a life expectancy of twenty years. As I mentioned above, I wanted to kill Reinhardt. I wanted angst. I wanted Rosa to be widowed and his children orphaned. In fact another idea that would I continue to write this series would have been that Reinhardt's second son would grow up hating his father for never being there for him. The elder brother would then be the counter balance because he remembers him. Why did I decide not to lill Reinhardt? Mostly it was because of my general disappointment as to how the story turned out. I feel I did not mange to put the emotional punch that I wanted. I also don't feel that I infused it with enough of the subtexts that I had wanted. My original vision included that Reinhardt should be pensive and heavily drawn to thoughts of his own age. I wanted Captain Kirk in Star trek II: The Wrath of Kahn.  
  
The final scene in my story came out of an idea that I don't think became very clear or makes much sense. In Alexander Dumas' the Count of Monte Cristo, a portion of the story is dedicated to how the title character becomes a count. The ending of my story I wanted to imply that the murders of the realtor and the banker were an attempt to hide a part of Dracula's plan to look like a genuine count. People forget that the real Dracula was a prince, not a count. Since I abide by the effort to reconcile the Castlevania games with the Bram Stoker novel, and especially the real historical Dracula, I tried to include this concept in my story.  
  
Tales in the Crypt  
  
I am finished I am through. Castlevaina has taken up quite a bit of my time. Now I plan to move on. I will probably do some more fan fiction. More than likely I will try to accomplish one original work of fiction. I have ideas. For now, my other Castlevania stories will have to wait. I have had several other stories "in the can" so to speak. I have my own Evil Dead 4 and Escape from Earth [or the continuing adventures of Snake Plissken]. At the moment I am considering a sort of comic book character that I would like to call Scratchman.  
  
To those of you who have reviewed my story on Fanfiction.net, you have my thanks. You can give no greater gift to a writer than to give him/her feedback.  
  
On the off chance that some old friends from the days of The Castlevania Pages see this, once again thank you for your support.  
  
To all that read this or any of my works of Castlevania, my utmost thanks.  
  
See you around. 


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